February 5, 2016
The Big Snake
Recently I received an email from a Good-Natured reader who lives in Batavia.
As I recall, we were corresponding about a seasonal topic–owls, I believe–but
then she asked a summertime question that, even in the midst of winter, still
seems to be on many people’s minds: What ever happened with the Big Snake?
You may remember, last August, Geneva found itself in the spotlight when
someone saw what appeared to be a venomous cottonmouth, Agkistrodon
piscivorus. (Time out for some Latin fun: Agkistrodon means fish hook tooth
and piscivorus means fish eater. What a perfect name for a snake that spends its
life eating fish, and frogs, and other critters that live near water.)
The story goes, a roofer working on a house in south Mill Creek noticed what
he described as a large, dark-bodied snake curled up on some mulch. A photo
was sent to the Willowbrook Wildlife Center in Glen Ellyn, and the staff there
identified the snake in the picture as a cottonmouth. Venomous, for sure, and
not normally found in this area.
From there, let’s see, how do I say this? All heck broke loose.
News media were alerted and, as quick as you could say fish-hook toothed fish
eater, reporters descended on the once-peaceful neighborhood. Mini-cam vans
parked and raised their antennas. Glaring TV lights switched on. Microphones
in hand, wide-eyed reporters spoke of a very large and potentially deadly snake
On. The. Loose.
It didn’t take long for a localized hysteria to break out. Snakes of all types fell
under suspicion. A wildlife removal team was called in. Traps were laid in the
area where the Big Snake was sighted.
Reptile enthusiast that I am, I couldn’t resist stopping by the neighborhood
where all this action was taking place. What I learned from casual conversations
was that some folks were afraid to let their kids play outdoors. I even spoke with
one gentleman who tore out several shrubs and replaced them with sod, lest
the snake slither over to his backyard.
As I walked around that hot afternoon, one week after the initial sighting, I noted
a couple things. One, the temperature was nearly 30 degrees warmer than it
had been the day the snake was seen.
Now, most people know that snakes are cold blooded. But what that term really
means is, they rely on ambient temperatures to heat and cool their bodies. And,
contrary to popular belief, snakes can get too warm.
The day the snake was first spotted, temperatures were in the 60s—great for
working on a roof, not so great if your body relies on an external source for
heat. The snake in question had needed to be out basking in order to warm its
body enough to function.
The week I visited, though, temperatures were in the 90s. While I was foolishly
out walking around, baking, the snake was no doubt laying low, waiting for
things to cool off a bit.
This large, dark snake is a northern
water snake, one of the most
common species in our area. Colors
vary widely among individuals, with
some snakes appearing brown and
others almost black.
The other thing I noticed was that, given the habitat of the surrounding area, a snake could do quite well for itself.
Abundant food in the form of fish and frogs flipped and plopped in the nearby retention pond. Not far away, in the larger
pond complex by the clubhouse, I saw great blue herons, green herons and white egrets—all at once. To have this many
animals that eat fish, frogs and other aquatic creatures, in the same place at the same time, indicated there was plenty of
food to go around—not just for birds, but for snakes too. Interesting.
I didn’t see the Big Snake, nor any snake for that matter, on that particular, and particularly hot, day.
Time wore on and I got busy doing other things, but monitored the situation via Facebook. A number of garter snakes
were trapped and removed, which is unfortunate. Even though they were “relocated,” the timing could not have been
worse. A month or so away from hibernation, these snakes—which typically return to the same hibernaculum, or
hibernation location, year after year—were released in an unfamiliar area with little time to acclimate or find shelter for the
coming cold weather.
As the garters were being caught and removed, some residents expressed concern that the rodent population would
increase. Which, by the way, is a valid point. Garters might not be constrictors, and aren’t capable of taking down an adult
mouse. But they do a bang-up job feeding on young rodents—especially those that have not yet left the nest.
In a somewhat humorous turn—one that also indicates a misunderstanding of natural processes–another resident
responded that the neighborhood doesn’t have a rodent problem, but rather a snake problem.
Also of note, it was learned that the photo submitted to Willowbrook wasn’t actually taken at the scene. It was an image
taken from the internet.
The days turned into weeks, but there were no more reports of a large, dark snake in the area.
In hopes of preventing future reptile-inspired panics, I contacted my friend Trish Burns, who manages Peck Farm Park in
Geneva. We put together a program on snake identification and scheduled it for late October. No one signed up.
Since then, the weather has cooled considerably. The snakes in our area, no doubt including the Big One in Geneva, are
hibernating til spring.
So what kind of snake do I think it was? Well, without a photo or other direct evidence, we can never be 100% positive.
People can, and do, release things that are not native to our area.
But given the nearby aquatic habitat, the available food, and the knowledge of what is normal and usual for this area, I’d
have to say the critter that caused the stir was none other than Nerodia sipedon, our very common northern water snake.
For what it’s worth, I’d very much like to return to the Mill Creek area this spring, to see just what sorts of snakes I can find.
If that works out I’ll let you know in a future column. With pictures that aren’t from the internet.
Pam Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services at the Hickory Knolls Discovery Center, a facility of
the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at 630-513-4346 or potto@stcparks.org.